


Two Girls and a Heart Tree

by J_L_Hynde



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A futuristic Westeros, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Back to the Future References, Butterfly Effect, Chaos Theory, F/M, Lyanna Stark gets transported to the future, Multiverse Theory, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Lyanna Stark, Past and Future time lines, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Scifi & Fantasy, Switching Places, Technology & Magic, Time Loop, Time Skips, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Time-loops, Two main characters with the same name, grandfather paradox, music references, real life references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23962552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_L_Hynde/pseuds/J_L_Hynde
Summary: Nineteen-year-old Lyanna Stark was a twenty-first-century woman living in a twenty-first-century world. Her life was good, normal. She had just finished finals at the University of Pentos and passed with flying colors. Her boyfriend of three years, Alyx, was a Medieval History major and had planned a romantic trip overseas to the United Kingdoms of Westeros for their summer vacation where they were going to backpack and tour all the old castles of Northland. But when he proposes to Lyanna in the ruins of the ancient godswood at Winterfell her entire world is turned upside down.Fourteen-year-old Lyanna Stark was a Lord’s daughter living at the end of the third century. Her life was good, normal, if not a little disappointing. She didn’t want to be a lady. She didn’t want to get married to some Lord and pop out half a dozen little antlered-wolf pups. She wanted freedom, freedom to live her life as she saw fit. But she was a woman and women would never have freedom in Westeros, especially her with father’s Southron ambitions. She prayed to the Old Gods to change her fate and the Old Gods answered.Time-travel/Switching Places AU
Relationships: Benjen Stark & Original Female Character(s), Brandon Stark & Benjen Stark, Brandon Stark & Lyanna Stark, Brandon Stark & Ned Stark, Brandon Stark & Original Female Character(s), Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen, Lyanna Stark & Original Character(s), Lyanna Stark/Original Male Character(s), Ned Stark & Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Rhaegar Targaryen & Lyanna Stark, Rhaegar Targaryen & Original Female Character(s), Robert Baratheon/Lyanna Stark, Robert Baratheon/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 51





	1. Character List

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still working on the drafting process of this fic. I want to write a few chapters before I start posting it, so I'm going to start out with a shortlist of the characters to give you an idea of what to look forward to.

(In order of Appearance)

Lyanna “Anna” Stark

Born in the year 2001 AC

19 years old

Actress/Model: Emily Rudd

She was born in Braavos to her parents: Bryant and Dyanna Stark. She is the second child of three kids. Her older sister, Johanna, is enrolled in a medical school overseas at the Citadel University in Oldtown. Her younger brother, Tyrek, attends a private school in Braavos. She is currently enrolled in the University of Pentos to earn a degree in computer science. She’s a very mechanically inclined person that enjoys tinkering with computers, machines, cars, etc. She loves taking things apart to see how they work. She met her boyfriend, Alyx, in high school and they’ve been dating for three years before taking a backpacking trip overseas to tour the castles of the United Kingdoms of Westeros. 

Alyx Ryder

Born in the year 2000 AC 

20 years old

Actor/Model: Ben Barnes

He is a history major at the University of Pentos. He loves medieval history and mapping out family trees. He planned a backpacking trip with his girlfriend, Lyanna, to tour the castles of the United Kingdoms of Westeros. Unbeknownst to her, he’s planning on proposing at Winterfell castle.

Lyanna “Lya” Stark

Born in the year 266 AC

14 years old

Actress/Model: Emily Rudd

The only daughter of Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, she is a maiden of winter and snow. She knows her father has ambitions in the South and she knows that one day soon he will wed her to a Southron Lord, but she doesn’t know which lord it will be.

Rickard Stark

Born in the year 238 AC

42 years old

Actor/Model: Hugh Jackman

He is the Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, and a single father trying to do right by his children. It is no easy task when a madman sits on the throne and he must form alliances to overthrow him or the entire realm will be consumed in wildfire.

Brandon Stark

Born in the year 262 AC

18 years old

Actor/Model: Tom Brittney

He is the heir to Winterfell and the North. He is the eldest of four children and as the eldest, he must look out for his younger siblings no matter the cost. He is being fostered at Barrowtown with House Dustan but has returned to Winterfell to see his little brother, Eddard, and his friend, Robert Baratheon, arrive from the Vale. 

Benjen Stark

Born in the year 267 AC

13 years old

Actor/Model: Aidan Gallagher

The youngest of the Stark children, the spare to the spare, he often worries about having no place in the world. He wants to make something of himself and get out of his older brothers’ shadows. He dreams of becoming a knight like Ser Arthur Dayne or Ser Aemon the Dragonknight. 

Eddard Stark

Born in the year 263 AC

17 years old

Actor/Model: Alden Ehrenreich

He is the second son, the second-best, perpetually living in his older brother’s shadow. However, he’s more than content to do so. Most people assume that he’s stern and solemn when in truth he is quiet and shy. He has been fostered in the Vale with Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, and Warden of the East, along with his friend, Robert Baratheon. He’s returned to Winterfell for a visit and to introduce Robert to his sister, Lyanna, before deciding on a betrothal.

Robert Baratheon

Born in the year 262 AC

18 years old

Actor/Model: Henry Cavill

He is the Lord of Storm’s End and the Lord of the Stormlands after his parents’ deaths two years ago. He is in search of a maiden to make his wife and has traveled to Winterfell to assess Lord Rickard Stark’s daughter, Lyanna. He’s been fostered in the Eyrie with Eddard since he was a boy and he fancies the betrothal between him and Lyanna if not solely for the fact it would make his best friend his brother.


	2. Anna I.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be careful what you pray for in front of an old, dead, weirwood tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know where this story is headed, don't know what's about to happen, but whatever it is, is gonna be big. I decided to post this chapter early since you guys have been waiting so patiently for it. I'm almost done drafting up chapter 2, but it's taking me a bit longer because I'm trying something new with the dialogue and using more Middle English language in the chapters that take place in the past to really drive home that initial culture shock each Lyanna will feel when they slip through time. But my Middle English is pretty rusty since it's been almost 5 years since I got out of high school and studied any Shakespeare or read the King James/New King James versions of the bible. These first two chapters are going to basically be the prologue, so think of this as Part1.

**ANNA I.**

* * *

_6/14/2020_

“I—“ She hesitated, her mouth floundering like a fish. What was she to say? What could she say?

Gods, there was no easy answer to this situation. It should’ve been easy. It was a simple yes-or-no question. Yet she fell silent when faced with the decision that could irrecoverably change her life. 

A simple question with huge consequences. How was she supposed to respond? Her eyes darted upwards towards the grey sky and the gnarl of twisting white branches of the old weirwood tree. A long time ago, this tree would’ve been alive; vibrant and healthy with strong sturdy branches like the ivory tusks of the wooly elephants of the Arctic Bridge with vermillion leaves the size of her hand and not the leafless, cracked, and decaying corpse that it was today. 

It sagged like a tired old woman, stooped and hanged and dragged its massive branches on the ground. The ancient face that was carved centuries ago, stood a meter overhead, and was worn and sprouting with brown, woodear fungus. Its expression was etched into a look of stern disapproval that reminded her of great-aunt Maege. She hadn’t seen the bitter old crone since grandfather Petyr’s funeral where she had called her a hussy and lambasted her father for allowing her to wear a knee-length dress and black pumps with the red soles. 

“Red shoes at a funeral,” she had exclaimed, “What would your father had said about this Bryant?” 

“That red was the color of the Lord of Light and a good omen for a funeral,” was her father’s rather dry reply. Great-aunt Maege had huffed indignantly when he went on to say that her brother would’ve been disappointed that she was getting so bent out of shape over something so trivial and if she had an opinion about his daughter’s dress she best kept it to herself from here on out. 

But her father wasn’t here to shield her from the withering stare of the old dead weirwood, nor was he here to tell her what to say. 

“Anna—“ 

“Yes!” The young woman was startled out of her thoughts, her eyes falling back down to the man kneeling before her in the snow.

Alyx’s expression was a curious mix of determination and apprehension that seemed to melt away in an instant. He beamed up at her, white teeth flashing between his soft pink lips. “You mean it? You’re saying yes?”

Anna realized suddenly what she had just said. A horrified shame turned her cheeks crimson and she shook her head. “I mean—Please don’t take this the wrong way, Alyx,” she rushed. “I’m trying to wrap my head around all this…”

The smile fell from Alyx’s face, his dark eyes growing cold. “What’s there to wrap your head around, Anna? It’s a simple enough question,” he said.

“But there’s nothing simple about it,” she argued, brushing the stray strands of hair from her face that were lifted by the wind. “This isn’t a simple question at all, Alyx. This is marriage.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “It is…”

“And I’m not sure if you’ve even thought this through—“

That hit a nerve and the man got to his feet tucking the ring box closed with a snap. “I have thought it through! It sounds like you haven’t though.” 

“I—“ She hesitated again. What could she say? He was hurt. Understandably so. Anna could tell that he hadn’t prepared for this scenario, the scenario in which he was rejected by her, and she understood why he hadn’t given their history. It wasn’t as if the thought of marrying her boyfriend of the last three years hadn’t crossed her mind. It was the next logical step to their relationship. They had known each other since junior high, had been dating since junior year of high school, moved into the same flat when Anna had started attending the University of Pentos—Why not marriage? Would it really be all that different, honestly? They were already living together. They were already sleeping in the same bed at night and splitting chores and paying bills. They signed a lease together—

_ But marriage isn’t a yearlong lease you can just sign _ , she reminded herself. It was a huge commitment. It was a commitment that she was not ready to make. 

“Are you telling me in all this time you’ve never thought about us getting married?” Alyx asked. 

Anna shook her head vehemently. “No! That’s not what I’m saying, Alyx. I have thought about it,” she said.

“And…”

“And it’s always been a pretty daydream,” she said. “But that’s all it has ever been—a daydream. I thought that after we both graduated and settled into our careers that we would, ya know? But this is too sudden. It’s too soon. I’m only nineteen for gods’ sake and you’re twenty.”

“What difference does it make if we get married now versus if we wait for another three to five years? Why should we wait that long if we both already know that’s where we’re headed?” 

It was a valid question. One that she didn’t hesitate to answer, her voice rising with her nerves. “I don’t want to get married just because it’s the next step on your dynastic life plan,” she told him. “If we get married, I want it to be because we want to not because everyone thinks we should.”

“Well, I want to,” Alyx's blunt reply shouldn’t have shocked her as much as it did. She shouldn’t have felt as if her head was spinning like a top. “I’ve made up my mind Anna and I want this. I want you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want us to grow old together and have children and family cookouts and vacations in Tyrosha with our grandkids. I want us to buy a townhome in Braavos near your parents and build our lives there and I can have a library and you can have your workshop tinkering on robots or motorbikes or whatever—“

She felt tears well to her eyes. She could almost picture what he was saying. A townhome in the city, family game nights with her parents, children, a boy and a girl, a mixture of both him and her running down the hall with the pitter-patter of feet. She could see them in twenty years, forty years, withered and grey and still curling up on the sofa in their home to watch historical dramas and debating the inaccuracies of the film. 

She wanted that—She did. But it was too soon. She wasn’t ready for it. It felt as if a knife was being twisted in her heart. With each second that past it became harder and harder to breathe. 

“I love you, Anna,” he told her. “I’ve loved you since I was sixteen years old.” He stepped toward her, placing his hand on her waist. Anna stared into his dark brown eyes, catching the flecks of amber in the light of the godswood. He was earnest, his hand clutching onto the fabric of her black coat as if he was afraid she’d slip away. 

“Alyx…”

“Don’t you love me?” He wondered stepping closer still. 

“You know I do,” she said. 

“Then say yes.” Anna closed her eyes when Alyx leaned in to press a tender kiss to her hair. “Say yes, Anna.”

She sucked in a breath of air, tearing herself away from him as one might rip off a bandaid. She could not let herself lose sight of what she felt. She wasn’t ready for this. It was too soon. No matter how much she loved him, no matter how much a part of her wanted to give in—She could not. She would not.

“Not like this, Alyx. Please,” she said her hands pressed against his chest as either a means of him keeping his distance or a reminder to herself to keep hers. “I need more time. I—I just need more time.” 

He didn’t like that answer, stepping back from her too. He tucked the ring, a beautiful ring of silver and sapphire, untraditional and oh so perfect for her, back into his coat pocket. “How much time will be enough for you?” He demanded. “You cannot expect me to wait around for you to figure out what you want, Anna.” 

“I know. I don’t. I just—“ She stumbled over her words, finding herself at a loss. What can she say? It was so obvious now that this trip to the United Kingdoms of Westeros was an elaborate proposal plan, both romantic and grandiose in its generosity. Alyx had always been great at the grand romantic gestures, at wearing his heart on his sleeve, and going after what he wants. She should’ve known there was something more to this trip than touring old castles and towns of the historic Northland. She should’ve realized when he took her there to the reconstructed Winterfell castle, the place where her family name, the Starks, had originated from that he was planning to propose to her in the godwood under the ancient weirwood that so many of her forefathers had married before. She should’ve realized it. 

But she didn’t. 

She didn’t see any of it until he pulled out that damn ring. She so desperately wished that they could go back to that morning. When they had both been so happy and carefree and she hadn’t been staring her future right in the face. She wanted to turn back time. 

_ I’m too young to get married _ , she told herself. She knew she was being unfair in a way. She couldn’t expect Alyx to wait for her if getting married was what he wanted, but he was also being unfair, throwing this at her without any prior warning. Did he honestly expect her to say yes on a whim? There were so many factors to consider. Families, schooling, careers—He was a year ahead of her and would graduate before she would and there was no guarantee he’d be able to stay in Pentos or find a job elsewhere and where would that leave her? 

No. He had clearly not thought this through. Though he claims he had, and maybe he thought the proposal through certainly, but Anna knew for a fact that he hadn’t stopped to consider how they’d reasonably fashion their lives together as one after they graduated. For that reason more than any other, she found in herself the strength to speak. 

“I can’t marry you, Alyx. Not now. And if you decide that waiting is something that you can’t live with then, I guess, I don’t expect you to wait,” she said. “You’ve had time to consider all this, at least enough to plan out this proposal—Which is beautiful and thoughtful and romantic, FYI—But I don’t think either of us has taken the time to wonder what comes after I say yes. There’s a wedding and your graduation, and we don’t know if we’d have to go long-distance or if we’d find some way to stay in Pentos until I graduate.”

“We always knew we might have to do long-distance,” he argued.

“Yes, but there’s a difference between a boyfriend and girlfriend doing long-distance and a husband and wife,” she told him. “Do you understand what I’m saying? And I can’t expect you to limit your job opportunities out of university because you want to stay close to me. That’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me.”

Alyx’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “So this is your answer then?” He asked her. 

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Then what happens now? Do we just pretend like this whole thing never happened? Is that what you expect?”

She shook her head. “That’s not going to happen. I can’t forget about all this and I doubt you can either. But I don’t know where we go from here,” she said.

“Maybe we should break up?” He suggested sounding worn and resigned. 

“I-Is that what you wanna do?” She bit her lip at the sharp pain that thought brought to her heart. 

Alyx said nothing, letting the silence stretch long between them. The ancient godswood around them was empty and it seemed to stretch that silence even further until it was as if they were the last two souls in the world. He seemed to take a long while to consider the problem they were presented, his mouth forming a grim line. Anna watched him with apprehension. Usually, she was able to guess what he was thinking, but now his expression was closed off even from her. At that moment, he looked a stranger to her in his gray coat, knit hat, and scarf. Dark hair framed his eyes and shielded them from view. He stood over her tall, and silent, and brooding. His jaw clenched and shoulders tense, he stared through her. A chill seemed to settle over the couple then, wrapping around them like an invisible fog, freezing them in their place. Like statues, they stood there unmoving, unblinking, and a vast chasm opened up between them. She wanted to reach out and hug him, but she was afraid of what might happen if she tried. 

_ Alyx… _

Finally, Alyx shrugged and let out a long sigh. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I need to think.”

“Okay…” 

He looked at her, although there was scant an emotion in his eyes. “I need to be alone for now,” he told her. “To think.”

She nodded. “Okay, I’ll just meet you back at the Inn?” She said, her voice rising at the end in a question. She felt worn out and weary all of a sudden. Alyx nodded in return, barely sparing her a glance as he stalked down the stone path from the godswood. She watched him go with a heavy heart, until he disappeared around the bend, out of sight. 

Tears welled up in her eyes and she tried to muffle the sound of a sob with her gloved-hand as she lost the strength to stand. Her knees drug themselves several inches into the snow, the moisture seeping through her jeans the underlayer of fleece-lined leggings she wore, but she didn’t feel the cold. She didn’t feel anything. 

_ Gods, what have I done?  _ She huddled forward letting the curtain of her long, dark hair shield her from the world.  _ Alyx…Gods!  _

How did her day turn out like this? She wished that she could take it all back, to turn back the clock to when it was morning and the air was crisp and the sun bright and her worries were few. 

Why did he have to propose? Why couldn’t he have waited? 

Now everything was ruined. Irrevocably ruined. 

Anna didn’t know how to fix it. She didn’t even begin to know how to try. She wanted to get away. To run. To never have to confront this problem. She wanted to bury herself in the snow and never have to see Alyx's broken-hearted face again. How was their relationship to move forward after she just rejected him? How was he supposed to look at her back at the Inn? How would they sit on a plane with each other back to Pentos or live together in the same flat? 

If they broke up, one of them was going to have to move. She didn’t want that. She didn’t want anything to change. She wanted their relationship to stay how it was. She didn’t want to lose him. Not him. Not her best friend. Not the man she loved. 

How did everything go so wrong?

  
_ Gods, I wish I was somewhere else—anywhere else _ , she sobbed and a breeze blew through godswood tousling her hair.  _ Just get me away from here! _


	3. Lya I.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word to the wise, never answer strange voices in the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of this 2-chapter prologue. I'm going to be starting a new job soon, so I will not be able to dedicate as much of my time to writing. Hopefully, the dialogue in this is not too difficult to read. I wanted to highlight the differences between modern speech in the present and traditional speech in the past. I found this English-to-Shakespearean translator that has helped me a lot, but I've tried to change the spelling of the more difficult words to something that is more easily recognizable in hopes that it will be easier to follow. So the characters in the past are not exactly speaking Middle English, but they certainly do not speak Modern English either.

**LYA** **I.**

* * *

_The fourteenth day of the sixth moon of the year two-hundred and eighty after the conquest._

__

“Lyanna, sit down, sweetling,” Lord Stark gestured to the chair opposite him behind his heavy wooden desk. Lyanna, his daughter, took a seat in the proffered chair shifting uncomfortably in her velvet skirts. She looked up at him wearily, cautiously, as he held up a small sheet of parchment in his hand. “We has't much to break with. For a long while, I has't meant to talk with thee and I wouldst be remiss to put it off any longer. Thou art ny longer a child, Lyanna, and ‘tis time now we start planning for thy future and seriously consider thy suitors.”

“Which suitors art these, Father?” She wondered. “I wast unaware I possessed any.” 

“Be not coy. Thou art not blind to the attention of men nor to the current state of thy development. Thee has't flowethered many moons ago or so Old Nan hast informed me. I wouldst appreciate ‘t if 't be true thee wouldst cease with this ridiculous mummer's farce,” he fixed her with a serious look. “Didst thee bethink thee couldst keep a secret for so long?”

Lyanna grimaced and cursed the old nursemaid in her thoughts. She should’ve known that she wouldn’t keep quiet for long after finding those bloodied rags in her wash. “Father I—”

“‘Tis no matter now,” he cut her off. “What is done is done. But this cannot continue to delay us more than ‘t hast thus far. ‘Tis time thee wed, Lyanna, for the future of our house.” 

“Prithee Father, doth I not has't a say in this at all?” She pleaded. “I has't barely did bleed a few short moons ago; certes we can intermit on a betrothal for a while longer?” 

“Nay,” he shook his head sadly. “'Tis time thee take responsibility, Lyanna. Thou art of ten and four years and the time for children's games hast hath passed. Thou art a lady grown now, though I know how much thee detest 't, and 'tis time thee start behaving as such. Thee cannot be clomping around in men's trousers, nor can thee continue to behave so recklessly riding horses at which hour thee shouldst be attending to thy lessons with Septa Gwenys.” 

_ Ugh, Septa Gwenys… _ Lyanna distaste showed clearly on her face, although she tried to hide it. Poorly. Very poorly for her father’s frown deepened when he noticed. “Come now, the lady cannot be so abhorrent to thee,” he scolded. 

“I respectfully disagree, father. Thee has't n'er to sit through her lectures on the  _ Seven-Pointed Star _ nor  _ Holy Book of Prayers _ ,” she said. “'Tis tedious and rather unproductive considering our House doest not keep the Southron Faith.Thither art few in the North which keep the New Gods, with the exception of the Manderlys—but House Manderly hast Southron blood and art the exception not the rule.”

“Aye. I see what thee means. However, thee cannot skip out on thy lessons with the Septa. The Southron Faith is just as important as the Northron one, Lyanna. If 't be true we art to form better relations with the kingdoms in the South we cannot doth 't without first understanding what the Faith of the Seven teaches. Doth thee understand?”

“I suppose. But Father, wherefore is't behoveful for me to learn such things? I has't n'er been south of the Neck. I am not Brandon or Eddard who is't art set to marry Southron brides—“

“Doth not suppose too soon,” he warned her.

Lyanna jolted. “Am I wrong?” She wondered. She had always known about her father’s ambitions. For Lord Rickard was an ambitious man with his eyes on the South. But the girl had thought—She had hoped—that he would be satisfied with her two elder brothers marrying off to the South. She hadn’t considered that she would be sent away from the North to marry. The thought terrified her, more so than the thought of marriage all together. “Doth thee plan to send me hence? Wherefore? What has't I done?”

“I doth not intend 't as a punishment, Lyanna, for thee has't done nothing to bring shame. Thee shall has't better prospects in the South, a better future—“

“I wish to stay in the North!” She exclaimed passionately and leapt out of her chair. “I doth not desire to marry a Southroner not leave mine own home. Prithee, if 't be true thee care at all for mine own happiness, thee shall allow me to remain hither and marry a Northron lord!”

“'Tis enow! Lyanna, compose thyself. I shalt not suffer thee flying into a frenzy,” Rickard snapped suddenly startling the young maiden. He fixed her with a withering look, silently reproaching her for her outburst, until she sat back down. “The reason I did summon thee to mine own solar wast to inform thee of a possible suitor who shall be visiting Winterfell posthaste. Eddard writes to me his friend, Lord Robert, wishes to meet with thee and judge whether or not thee shall be a suitable match. The man is young, just very recently having inherited his title and castle of Storm's End, and is in search of a young bride to become the Lady of the Stormlands. Shouldst he put forth an offer for thy hand, 't wouldst be a boon for our House. House Baratheon is descended from royal blood. Robert himself is third-in-line for the throne, a cousin to the Targaryens and a close friend of thy brother Eddard. Thee shalt not embarrass thyself or turn him hence while he is hither. Thee shalt be on thy most wondrous behavior. Thee shall be courteous and proper and conduct thyself in a reasonably composed manner as befits a lady of thy station. Doth thee understand?”

Lyanna gritted her teeth. 

Rickard frowned at her stubbornness, leaning forward in his seat. “Lyanna, doth thee understand?” He repeated. 

“Aye. I do,” she nodded stiffly. Her fists twisted the fabric of her skirts, as if in hope to soothe her mounting frustration at the turn this day had taken. “At which hour shall Lord Robert be arriving?”

“He rides from the Eyrie with thy brother. We shouldst expect the retinue hither on the morrow,” he told her. 

“So soon? Wherefore has't thee not mentioned aught to me beforehand? Wherefore am I just finding out about this?” She asked. “I hadst not known Eddard wast returning home for a visit.”

Her father arched his brow at that looking surprised. “Wherefore else doth thee bethink Brandon hadst hath returned from the Dustins?” He asked her. “I wouldst has't bethought he wouldst bid thee of Eddard's impending arrival. He didst not?”

“Nay. He didst not,” she repeated. 

“I apologize thee has't been so ill informed. I hadst assumed thee knew,” he said.

“I didst not,” Lyanna felt her frustration turn to anger. She wanted to get out of there. To get away and scream and hit something. 

It was all so unfair. 

“Is thither aught more thee need to bid me or is 't all, Father?" Why was she the one who was expected to marry and stay in the South? Storm’s End was all the way down on the Southron-most tip of the Stormlands near the Dornish Marches. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to marry some stag and whelp a half-dozen little antlered-wolf pups. She wanted to remain at Winterfell, in a place where she was free, and she would be as wild as she wished. She did not want to marry some pompous lord from the south and be expected to sit and sew, and sing and dance until she was old and grey.

Her father studied her a moment. She thought he might’ve been looking for any sign that she was going to put up anymore of a fight than she had already. She tried to keep her expression decidedly neutral and she must’ve done a rather good job of it for after a long hard look at her, her father relaxed his shoulders and sighed. “Aye,” he said. “‘Tis all.” 

“Then may I be dismissed?” She asked.

“Aye. Thee may.” Lyanna rose from her seat with as much grace as she could muster, her shoulders straight, her jaw clenched. Her grey eyes flashed like the bite of live steel before she dipped her head and curtsied. She turned and made her way to the door, just as she reached it her father called her name halting her. “I desire thee know I only has't thy most favorable interest in mind, Sweetling. Perchance, one day thee shall come to understand wherefore I has't made the choices I has't thus made. If 't be true not, I wish for thee to know how much I love thee as mine own daughter. Thy mother wouldst be most proud of the lady thee has't grown to be.”

Lyanna did not have a retort for such words, nor did she desire to say anything more to her father for the time being, so she said nothing. Turning back around, she focused her attention on putting one foot in front of the other and ignoring her father’s thoughtful gaze as she left the solar. She marched down the long hallways, down the spiraling staircases, out through one of the baileys and through the courtyard to the godswood. 

Resentment bubbled up inside her like a pot of water over a stove. She found herself for the first time truly hating the world of which she was born into.

_ ‘Tis all because I was born a girl _ , she thought. If she had been born a boy she would be allowed to keep her own freedom. Her prospects wouldn’t be limited to being a mere broodmare to be sold off to the highest bidder.  _ I am a person too. Doth not mine own desires matter at all? _

The answer to that question was abundantly clear. Not in this world. Not in Westeros. She was a woman and women would never have freedom in the society in which she lived. A society that viewed and treated them no better than property to be traded and sold. A woman by herself held no titles, she held no lands, she had naught a way of making her own coin unless she chose to work inside a pillowhouse—They were slaves. No better than the girls bought at the pillowhouses in Lys, they lived and breathed and served for the pleasure of men. Lyanna might have had to wear a collar around her neck, but she was shackled all the same by her noble blood and family name. 

Her father didn’t understand what it was like. He didn’t understand. How could he when he had been born into the privilege of being male in a patriarchal society? How could he understand the struggles of a girl being sold off to some stranger she’s never seen or spoken to and be expected to leave everything that she has known to bear his children? He couldn’t understand that. He couldn’t understand how desperately Lyanna fought to keep her own identity, to not let Septa Gwenys or Old Nan make her into just another simpering, pandering lady with no ambitions or desires of her own. 

She didn’t want that life. 

She wanted the power to make her own choices just like the men. She wanted the same opportunities that her brothers had, that her father had. She wanted to be able to live a life of adventure if she wanted. She wanted to travel the world like Corlys Velaryon when he traveled to Yi Ti and Leng or Elissa Farman who dared to sail west to see what lay beyond the Sunset sea if she wanted. Or she wanted to dare see what lay north of the Wall like brave Danny Flint, or fight off Ironborn reavers like the Mormont women of Bear Island if she wanted. 

She didn’t want to be tied down. She didn’t want to be married. She didn’t want to settle for the mundane. As she waded through the snow on the path to the heat tree in the middle of the godswood, she thought about possibly running away. It wouldn’t be hard would it? She would just need to sneak some coin and provisions, grab a horse and take off. But where would she go? 

Her first thought was White Harbor. The Northron seaport sat on the mouth of the White Knife and had ships going to and from the free cities in Essos. Braavos was the closest one from there. But she couldn’t just go to White Harbor and board a ship. That would be the first place her father would look. If she took the Kingsroad down south she would get stopped at Castle Cerwyn before she ever managed to make it to Moat Cailin. 

_ The kingsroad wouldst not due. 'T wouldst be too populated, _ she decided. But then where? She stopped beneath the branch of the weirwood and started up into the ancient carved face. Its red leaves stook out from the snowy landscape like a head of fiery hair. 

_ What am I to doth? Which path shouldst I take? _ She sunk down to her knees in the snow, caring not for the mud that would surely stain her dress. Her eyes fell shut as she clasped her hands before her in prayer.  _ Prithee. Prithee help me, Old Gods. Show me which path I shouldst take. Help me find a way to change mine own fate. Help me find a life where I can be free of these shackles which keep me thus bound...  _

The wind rustled the leaves overhead. 

_ —Prithee. I wish to be free, _ she prayed. She felt her hair being lifted from her face, swept aside gently like a caress. For a moment she thought she heard a voice in the wind, quiet and soft, nothing more than a faint echo. 

_ Just get me away from here! _

  
Lyanna nodded.  _ Aye, aye. Me too. Me too... _


	4. Alyx I.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyx realizes he had made a grave mistake, however, he's just beginning to grasp how big of a mistake it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...it's been a few months and I've gradually worked on the story off and on between other projects and work. Fair warning, it's probably going to be another few months before I can get the next chapter out. But I'm really excited about the directions this story can go, so I hope you guys will stick with me as I keep chipping away at it. I've had to revise my outline a little bit as I keep changing my mind on where I want this story to go and who I want to tell it so no spoilers on who the next POV will be. (But I will tell you that we will be going back to 280 A.C. so that means more old English and hard to read dialogue—Yay! Just kidding, I know you guys hate it, but I don't care. I've made a creative choice and I'm sticking with it. Consequences be damned.) As always constructive criticism is encouraged and unconstructive criticism is largely ignored, but feel free to drop a comment or a kudos or whatever. I promise I don't bite!

**Alyx I.**

* * *

_ 06/14/2020 _

Greywind’s Den was a popular local pub in Wintertown. It was located only a stone’s throw away from Winterfell Castle in the heart of the historic district of the city. At one point in time, it had served as a sick house for soldiers during the Westerosi Revolution in 1776 that saw the fight for the upheaval of the constitutional Monarchy in exchange for the R’hllor Theocracy. Of course, the movement had been largely unsuccessful and the Red Monks had lost to the Black Coats in the battle of Blazewater Bay. There were motifs placed around the establishment that eluded to this interesting bit of history from the Red Monk’s banner flag, a burning heart pierced by a silver dagger on a field of blood, hanging behind the bar to the manikin at the entrance decked out in a Black Coats’ recreation of their military uniform complete with ebony coatee and crimson epaulets and the Black trousers with red pinstripes down the seams and the bayonet rifle encased in glass and mounted on the wall purely for the purpose of aesthetics. Normally he would have thoroughly enjoyed all the historical memorabilia, however, today Alyx found he had no other goal than to sit and brood at the end of the bar. 

This wasn’t how he had imagined his day going. He had thought she’d say yes. She was supposed to say yes. Why didn’t she say yes? 

His dark brows furrowed as he stared into the bottom of his beer glass as if it would give him any answers. Even after three years together, he still wasn’t able to predict Anna. She had surprised him today. She was always surprising him. But today—Today she really surprised him. 

“Idiot,” he grumbled to himself and took a long draw from the glass in front of him. Why did he propose? Why did he have to propose? What in the Seven Hells was he thinking? 

It went without saying that he was regretting his decision. Not the trip to Westeros. No, the trip had been wonderful—romantic—up until this afternoon where he had to do the most idiotic of things he had ever and hopefully would ever do proposing to his girlfriend. It hadn’t been his plan. Not really. He hadn’t woken up that morning and planned to pop the question. But he had been in the moment, and there was something about the old godswood, something about seeing Anna standing beneath the heart tree in the summer snow with fat flakes clinging to her hair and eyelashes, and knowing that this was the exact spot that generation upon generation of Starks had said their marriage vows that made him act impulsively. He had meant to wait until the holidays when they were both back in Braavos with their parents and their siblings, so they could share their engagement with their families. Instead, he had gotten ahead of himself and pushed her and the ring that he had been carting around in his pocket since the beginning of the year had found its way into his hand before he had a chance to reconsider. 

The young man’s face pulled into a grimace. That had been his second mistake. He had handled her rejection all wrong. After he had walked off to cool down, the gravity of his actions in response to her answer weighed on him. He hadn’t handled it well at all. He had let his feelings get the better of him and instead of staying to talk things out, he had left her there to process the mess on her own. He regretted it now. He regretted leaving her there instead of discussing her concerns for their marriage. 

_ You’re such a dumbass, _ he told himself. He itched to pick up his phone and call her. But he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know if she’d answer. And if she didn’t he wouldn’t blame her, yet he still wished he hadn’t had left. 

“Rough day?” The barkeep spoke up her eyes lingering on the ring box in his hands. She was a freckled redhead in a grey long-sleeve-tee and a green plaid button-down in the process of drying glasses. It was still too early for Happy Hour and Alyx was one of the few patrons sitting at the bar, besides the three women further down sipping fruity drinks. 

“You can say that,” he replied.

“You want to talk about it?” She asked him. Ordinarily, Alyx would have thought such a suggestion would be prying, but when he looked at the woman he didn’t see anything but genuine concern. He considered it glancing down at the ring box in his hands then shrugged deciding there wasn’t much harm in it. 

“I proposed to my girlfriend today, she didn’t…” The words stuck in his mouth lodged themselves in his throat and refused to come out. Alyx took another swallow of his beer, shaking his head. “Well, it didn’t go as planned.”

The barkeep frowned thoughtfully, sympathetically, and set the glass aside. “I’m sorry,” she told him for lack of anything else to say. 

“It was my own fault. I pushed her. She wasn’t ready for it, that’s what she told me,” he added finding it impossible to keep silent now that he had begun talking. 

“How long were you together?”

“We’re going on four years at the end of the year.”

The redhead shook her head, frowning. “I’m sorry, mate. That sucks.” 

She picked up another beer glass and filled it, before sliding it towards him to replace the almost empty one in front of him. “This one’s on me, a’right?”

Alyx was surprised at her generosity. He moved to take out his wallet, shaking his head. “Oh, really? No, you don’t have to do that. I can pay—”

“Look,” she cut him off, “You’re having a bad day. I’ve been there. Just consider it as an investment in good karma.” She smiled then, her teeth were slightly crooked, but it somehow made it endearing. 

Alxy settled back into his chair. “Well, thank you,” he gave a smile back, though it lacked its usual enthusiasm.

“Don’t mention it,” she waved off his gratitude with a flip of her ponytail as she mixed another frozen margarita for one of the women at the other end of the bar. Alyx took the beer in hand and looked at the ring box again. He thought about what it was that he wanted to do now. He thought about Anna waiting for him back at the Inn. 

_ What happens now? _ He wondered. Things had changed between them. There was no sense in pretending otherwise. Alyx knew they couldn’t go back to the way everything was before he proposed, Anna had been right about that. But what were they supposed to do now? What was he supposed to do now? What was she? 

It was like a great chasm had opened up in his relationship and try as he might it just kept growing and growing as the seconds ticked by. He stared at the untouched beer before him, watching as trails of condensation dripping down the sides of the glass. The more he thought about it, the more he became afraid that this was the end of everything. That fear caused something to twist painfully in his chest, he found it nearly impossible to breathe. 

_ I need to get out of here. I need to see Anna.  _ Already rising from his chair, he pulled some folded bills from his wallet and placed them on the bar. “I gotta go,” he said, pushing the bills forward to the barkeep. 

She arched a red brow at him curiously. “Alright… Do you need any change back—“

Alyx shook his head, “No keep it.” He pulled out a few extra bills as a tip and added it to the pile. “Thank you for the beer. But I really gotta go.”

He didn’t waste any time, turning on his heels and heading for the door. Although it was summer, it was still Northland, and stepping outside sent a breeze of icy wind to chill his face. Alyx adjusted the scarf around his neck so his skin was better protected and in the process realized that he had left his gloves back at Greywind’s Den. He considered for a beat whether to go back and get them, but then decided that the gloves didn’t mean that much to him when compared to Anna. Gloves he could be replaced, but Anna he could not. Every second he spent away from her felt like another second where she decided he wasn’t worth her time. He might have already fucked everything up. 

Alyx booked it the rest of the way to the Inn. And when he arrived, he was panting and out of breath as he threw the door open to the small room he and Anna had rented for three days. 

“Anna—”

But she wasn’t there.

Alyx paused at the door, seeing the unmade bed and their packs on the floor by the desk. Anna’s blue pack was still there so he knew she hadn’t decided to just up and leave. He closed the door behind him and went to the bathroom, flicking on the light and seeing everything as they had left it this morning. Coffee maker plugged into the wall socket, two empty coffee cups and opened sugar and creamer packets, towels hanging up to dry, toiletries sitting by the sink, but still no Anna. She must not have made it back yet. 

Alyx wondered where she was. She had told him that she would see him back at the Inn and he had half expected her to be waiting for him when he walked through the door...but she wasn’t. Why not? What was keeping her? Did she maybe get lost? Or was she staying away purposely to give him and herself space? That would be something she would do. Anna had never liked confrontation, in fact, Alyx would go so far as to say that she effectively evaded it whenever possible. 

He cursed under his breath and dug his hand into his coat pocket for his phone, in doing so his hand brushed against the velvet ring box. Alyx frowned, taking the ring box out and passing it to his other hand, while he took his cellphone in the other. He checked for messages. There were none. No voicemails. No texts. Nothing.

Something tightened in his chest and he found his mouth all the sudden feeling exceptionally dry. It was unlike Anna to go so long without sending any messages. It had been over an hour since he left her in the godswood. Surely, she would’ve made it back or at least sent a text by now. He pulled up his messages, thumbs already tapping out a long message on the screen—

_ Anna I’m sorry. You were right to say no. I didn’t mean to push you into anything you weren’t ready for. If you need more time, that’s fine. I can wait. I will wait for however long you need because you’re worth it. And I lo| _

He paused and looked over the message again, “What am I doing?” It screamed desperation. A flush of hot shame rushed to his cheeks and he tapped the backspace button before he composed a new message.

_ Anna, I’m back at the Inn. I’m ready to talk whenever you are. Let me know when you’re on your way. | _

That was better. He hit send. 

Then something strange happened. 

Alyx was staring at the screen of his cell phone when all of a sudden the lights in the room started flickering on and off. The television, a twenty-two-inch flatscreen that had been left on the local news channel, became static, and then suddenly everything turned off. Alyx looked around, surprised, but before he could even take a step in any direction to see what in the seven hells was going on, everything came back to life as if the blackout had never happened. “What was that?” He wondered moving to the nightstand and picking the hotel phone of the receiver to call down to the front desk. 

“Hello, Winterton Suites, how may I assist you?” The front desk clerk answered on the other end. It was a woman’s voice. 

Alyx, still perplexed by what had just happened, stumbled through an explanation of what had happened with the lights and television in his room. “Yes, sir, we’ve already received similar reports from other guests. We’re still trying to get to the bottom of what caused it and are waiting to hear back from the power company. When we do I’ll be sure to call you back and let you know what’s happening.”

“Alright, thank you.”

“Is there anything else?”

“No, that’s all,” Alyx said. The woman bid him a cheerful goodbye before the line went silent and he was left listening to the dial tone through the receiver. Placing the hotel phone down, Alyx turned back to his cell phone and called Anna. 

The line rang…

...and rang…

...and rang…

“Hey, this is Anna. Sorry, I can’t get to the phone right now. If it’s important send me a text or leave a message and I’ll get back to ya when I can— _ beep…” _

“Anna, it’s Alyx. I’m back a the inn. There was a blackout here and I wanted to call and make sure you were okay. I sent you a text,” he paused nervously, “I need to talk to you about earlier. I need to apologize. I never wanted to push you into anything and whenever you’re ready I’ll be here to listen to what you have to say. I want to work through this. I want us to work through this. Just call me back when you’re on your way.”

He pressed his thumb to the screen and sat down on the edge of the bed to wait. As he waited, he flicked through channels on the television, scrolled through memes on social media, played a few games on his phone, and so on. He looked for anything to keep him occupied and to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach that grew with each minute that passed on the clock without a text or a call or sight of Anna. 

One hour passed…

...then two…

...then three…

By the fourth hour, Alyx could no longer pretend that something was not wrong. Anna would never go this long without calling him back even if she was mad. He sent her a text every few minutes asking where she was–asking her to text him back–asking if she was alright. He left her more voicemails too until he couldn’t stay there and wait anymore. 

He grabbed his coat and his keys and headed out the door. The first place he checked was Winterfell Castle. Once the fortress had served as the place of Kings and Queens of Winter, the home of the Starks, a safe haven during the War for the Dawn before the dragons scorched its stonewalls and destroyed much of the original structure leaving it a crumbling ruin and the Starks a displaced noble family with no castle or lands to call their own. Now served largely as a University, reconstructed in the year eighteen-sixty-six by Bryanna and her brother Benjen Stark, it grew to become one of the oldest and renowned universities in the United Kingdoms. And what remained of the old fortress built by Bran the Builder was preserved as much as possible and turned into a museum, this included the old godswood, the family crypts, parts of the Great Keep, and the cellars and dungeons. 

Alyx walked at a brisk pace along the brick walkways that lead to the godswood. The grey stone wall that encircled the three acre wood stood untouched by time, in fact, the whole forest seemed to be perpetually frozen in a time that was long since passed. It was the sort of place that made one believe that there was something out there beyond human comprehension, something otherworldly; and except for the worn footpaths, the place showed no signs of human disturbance. He believed that the trees that grew there would continue to remain long after the university had crumbled to dust. 

He retraced his steps from that morning, watching out for uneven footing and patches of ground where tree roots breached from the ground. The fluffy white snow made the place look like something out of a children’s film about a Lion, a witch, and four prophesied children. His eyes scanned his surroundings for any sign of his girlfriend. He called out her name a few times to no response before he found himself underneath the withered, drooping branches of the ancient weirwood tree. There was no trace of Anna. If she had been there, she must have left hours ago. Fresh snow had covered the tracks they had made together that morning and it looked as if no one had been in the area since—Except…

Alyx paused just then noticing a set of footprints that hadn’t been there previously. They appeared seemingly out of nowhere and veered off to the left through a maze of trees. It was peculiar and for a moment he wondered if he should perhaps follow them to see where they led… But no, he didn’t have time for that. He had to find Anna. Turning on his heels, he went back the way he came, talking to anyone he passed asking if they had seen a girl matching Anna’s description. 

No one he talked to had said that they had seen her. 

The next place he looked was the information center where he and Anna had booked a group tour of the old castle and the surrounding campus. It was past five o’clock, so the center was closed, but Alyx undeterred manage to find a campus security guard that told him he might have seen a girl matching what Alyx had described to him walking down the path in what he could only describe as one of those “Dragon-Age Cosplayers”. 

“I’m sorry. What?” Alyx had sputtered in confusion. 

“Ya’ know the whole corset dress and cloak…” The man shrugged. “I asked her where she was headed, but she looked at me like I had two heads and shuffled off that way.”

“I don’t think that’s who I’m looking for,” Alyx said slowly. “It must be someone else.”

“Ya’ should check with the police station near campus. They can probably help ya’ or at least point you in the right direction,” the guard suggested not unsympathetically. “If they can’t, I say your next best bet would be hospitals or the USE embassy. Godsknow, if it was my girlfriend missin’ I’d be half out of my mind worrin’ about her.” 

Alyx nodded in agreement, thankful for the suggestion. He inquired about directions to the station in question which the campus guard gave, telling him it was near the old Wintertown square, “The one where they have that statue of the Last Winter Queen,” he said. 

“Sansa Stark?” Alyx asked.

“Aye, that’s the one,” the guard nodded. “It’s just across the square. You can’t miss it.”

It took him another thirty minutes to arrive at the station and then another three hours to convince an officer to file a missing person’s report. During all of this Alyx tried to keep himself calm. He tried. But everything weighed on him. It was his fault he knew. If he hadn’t left her on her own. If he had stayed… 

He ended up breaking down on the phone with Anna’s sister. She was the only person he could think to call. Anna’s parents, Bryant and Dyanna, were in Braavos with her little brother, Tyrek. Johanna was attending medical school at the Citadel in Oldtown way down South in the Reachlands. She was the only one still on the same continent and she was the one who dropped everything to fly from Oldtown to Torrhen’s Square and catch a connecting train to Wintertown. 

Three days passed. But Alyx lost track of the time. He lost track of where he was. It was his fault. It was all his fault. And if Anna never came home, he would never forgive himself. How could he? How could anyone? 


	5. Brandon I.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It felt like he was missing something important here. As if he was on the cusps of putting it all together. Brandon turned back to her. “Lyanna,” the girl twitched at the sound of her name but had no response beyond that. “Doth thee know who thee art?”
> 
> She blinked, grey eyes darting around the room before looking him in the eye and nodding once with resolve. “Doth thee know where thee art?” Brandon asked slowly and she hesitated. Her hesitation was answered enough, but still, Brandon persisted. “Doth thee know who I am?” He asked and she shook her head. “I’m Brandon Stark,” he told her and then clarified, “thy brother.”
> 
> Instantly Lyanna shook her head and Brandon tried not to let her reaction sting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had some downtime and was able to get this chapter written out to post. Yay! I don't if for the next chapter I should go back to the future or stay in the past with an Anna POV chapter. I'm in a toss-up between an Anna POV, a Lyanna POV, or a Johanna POV (Johanna Stark is future Lyanna's Sister.) If you guys want to throw in your two-cents feel free.

**Brandon I.**

* * *

_ The seventeenth day of the sixth moon of the year two-hundred and eighty A.C. _

Brandon didn’t know what to think. 

He found himself at a loss for what to do or say after Lyanna’s uncharacteristic outburst three days prior. “Lyanna, prithee. Thee needeth to consume something the present day,” he urged holding out the bowl of warm oats and honey to the young girl curled up on the bed. His sister sat huddled, with her knees to her chest in her breeches and woolen tunic, as far away from him as she could be without falling off the bed watching him with wary grey eyes. 

She wouldn’t let anyone come near her. Not him. Not father. Not even Benjen or Ned. She would simply get up and curl into herself and try to make herself as small as humanly possible while her eyes followed your every move. Maester Walys had tried to examine her, but when he had tried to strip her of her clothing to search of any injuries, she screamed and about near tried to strangle the man. It had taken the combined strength of him and his father to hold her back, which only served to make her more erratic as she fought to get away from them as well. 

They soon found that as a wolf caught in a bear trap it was best to leave her be or one risked getting bit. Although now, his sister seemed to have calmed down somewhat–not relaxing necessarily, no longer trying to bolt for the door. “Aren’t thee hungry?” He asked her already knowing the answer to that. She hadn’t eaten in three days, had only touched the glass of lemon water the servants left for her on her dressing table, and Brandon heard the sounds of discontent from her stomach and he saw how her resolve was slowly beginning to waver a little more each hour. 

From what Maester Walys had gathered, he believed that Lyanna must have suffered some kind of head injury. “It’s rather curious,” the man had remarked to father outside of Lyanna’s chambers. “The Lady seems to act like she doesn’t know who we are?”

“Is there not anything thee can do?” Father had asked with a furrow to his dark heavy brows. 

“Unless I can examine the lady, I know not the extent of her ailment,” the maester replied simply. “The best I can do for her now is give her a tonic for her nerves and resume my examination on the morrow when she’s calmer.” Maester Walys returned from his apothecary momentarily with a glass vial and instructions for father. “Only two drops into her food or drink, my lord, the cordial is extremely potent.”

“But this will calm her?” Father held up the vial to the torchlight with a curious glance. 

“It should,” the maester assures him, then glancing at the door, adds “Someone should sit with the lady until all this can be sorted out. She should not be left alone or she might hurt herself in her confusion.” 

Father hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes falling on the door as well. A speculative look crossed over the Lord of Winterfell’s face, a look that belied the apprehension beneath it. “I suppose I could find someone—”

“I will do it,” Brandon volunteered. “She’s my little sister.” Father had agreed to it and handed him the vial. 

“Be sure she takes this,” he told him and Brandon promised that he would. However, all of his attempts to give Lyanna the cordial had been in vain. He had tried offering it to her outright, telling her that it would calm her nerves. But she refused with a quick shake of her head. He tried dripping two drops into a bowl of hearty rabbit and vegetable pottage that the servants had brought for the evening meal, but she turned away and scooted as far away from him as possible. He tried putting it in a glass of lemon water, but as if suspecting that trick, that day she didn’t go anywhere near the pitcher until the servants came to replace it with a fresh one. 

His frustration was mounting. Brandon had never been a particularly patient man. Even as a boy he had been all wild dynamism going this way then that, unable to sit still, unable to focus on his lesson with the maester or Father unless it involved a sword or a bow or a horse in hand. He blamed the wolfblood in his veins. Lyanna was the same way...Or she had been the same way. 

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something had changed in her. He had never seen her be quiet so still and his little sister had certainly never gone this long without speaking. At times, it seemed as if she was about to say something to him, but then she thought better of it and kept her lips firmly pressed. He wondered what she wanted to say. He could see it in her grey eyes, the questions steadily building up until they were overflowing. 

She had cried twice late at night when she thought he was sleeping. He had been, but something had startled him awake and he looked over to see her laying on her side, facing away from him, sniffling into her pillow. He had called out to her the first time, inquiring if she was well, and she had gone so stiff and so silent that he might as well have imagined the whole thing. The second time, he watched her in silence and caught her whispering to herself too low for him to understand. 

And now, here he was trying to get her to eat something, anything, not even bothering to administer the tonic. He looked her over from her bedraggled brown hair to her boots. Strange boots, now that he thought about it. They were black leather (which wasn’t strange), but the style of them laced up the front like a lady’s corset and tied with a black string and there was something metallic dangling off the side. Thinking back on it, he had never known Lyanna to have a pair of boots like those, though there was no denying that they were well-made with thick soles for the snow. 

Brandon examined her more closely. At first glance, there was nothing inherently wrong with the way she was dressed—At least for Lyanna. His sister could often be found in roughspun breeches and tunics as she greatly preferred them to long skirts and corsets. But upon closer examination, Brandon found some peculiarities in her attire. The fabric of her breeches was not the roughspun grey wool that was so common in the North, they were black, black as ebony, black as night which in itself was rather unusual as roughspun was rarely dyed and it was far too smooth. And her tunic… it looked knitted, but the patterns were more elaborate than anything he’d seen and it was too uniform. His sister had been wearing a grey surcoat with long sleeves and fur trim and silver buttons that now hung on a hook by the door. He looked at it now trying to recall any memory of having seen it before and came up blank. 

It felt like he was missing something important here. As if he was on the cusps of putting it all together. Brandon turned back to her. “Lyanna,” the girl twitched at the sound of her name but had no response beyond that. “Doth thee know who thee art?”

She blinked, grey eyes darting around the room before looking him in the eye and nodding once with resolve. “Doth thee know where thee art?” Brandon asked slowly and she hesitated. Her hesitation was answered enough, but still, Brandon persisted. “Doth thee know who I am?” He asked and she shook her head. “I’m Brandon Stark,” he told her and then clarified, “thy brother.”

Instantly Lyanna shook her head and Brandon tried not to let her reaction sting him. “Maester Walys says thee do not remember. That thee might have suffered an accident if thee allowed him to examine—”

“No.” The single word from his sister had him forgetting the rest of his speech. She had talked. A single syllable, barely audible above a whisper, but it was a word nonetheless. 

“Why not?” He wondered. “Lyanna prithee, speak with me. Tell me what ails thee so, so I may help thee. Thee art my sister—”

Lyanna shook her head. 

“Stop shaking thy head. Use thy damn words, Lya,” he barked his frustration boiling over. “For three days, I have been sitting here watching over thee, feeding thee, tending to thee like a godsdamn wetnurse and thee have been nothing but a colossal pain my mine ars—”

“I’m not!” The shout had him faltering again, but that wasn’t his sister who had spoken… Was it? There was no one else in the room beside him and her and yet Brandon could’ve swore that the voice he heard belonged to someone else. She spoke in a strange accent the likes of which he had never heard before. It almost sounds like Essosi in origin, perhaps at Braavosi mixed in. “I’m not your sister,” the girl that looked like Lyanna, but wasn’t Lyanna said. 

“Who art thee then?” Brandon meant to demand, yet it came out sounding more bewildered than anything else.

“Someone else…”

“Piss on that! Where is Lyanna? What have thee done to her?” Brandon got to his feet and the girl sensing the danger she was in jumped off the other side of the bed with a swiftness that belied her previous position. 

“I haven’t done anything! You’re the ones who mistook me for her! I was just trying to leave,” she told him. 

“How did thee get in the castle? Did thee sneak past the guards? Guards! Will someone bleeding get the guards—” Brandon took a step toward the door of her chamber where he knew two of the Stark guards had been stationed down the hall. 

“Wait. Please don’t call anyone,” she rushed past him blocking his way to the door, except now she had effectively boxed herself between him and the door. “I don’t mean any harm.”

“How am I to believe that? Give me one good reason I should listen to thee—”

“Because my name is Lyanna Stark!”

“What lie is this?”

“It’s not a lie,” the girl cut him off again. “My name is Lyanna Stark, well technically it is Lyanna Taelor Vysella Nylah Alvaerys-Stark. I was born the fifteenth of the fifth month in the year two-thousand-and-one at Saint Kristofer’s hospital in Braavos to Bryant Stark and Dyanna Alvaerys. My social security number is four-zero-four-five-seven-four-four-five-one-one-five. I’m a nineteen-year-old computer science major attending the University of Pentos on a summer holiday with my boyfriend touring castles of historic Northland.”

Brandon reared back as if she had struck him looking at this person in complete bewilderment. “Thee art mad. Thee art completely mad,” he said. 

“I’m not mad! I’m telling you I’m not mad. I know how it sounds. I know that it sounds like I’m raving, but I’m not mad,” she told him. “I don’t know how I got here. I woke up here under that damnable tree and everyone keeps calling me  _ my lady _ and talking as if they’re in a Ser Georgè Martȳn play and I know it doesn’t make any sense but...I think I may have traveled back in time.” 

“What?”

“There’s no other explanation. At first, I thought I was being kidnapped when those men tried to grab me by the front gate and you showed up and dragged me off to this room, and then that other man was yelling at me as if I was his daughter, and you kept talking to me like I was your sister, and yet all of you knew my name. I thought it all just might be a dream or some horrible nightmare, but it wasn’t and...and… I just want to go back home.” 

Brandon continued to gape at this girl in front of him. Surely it was a huge hoax. A trick meant to unsettle him. And it had unsettled him. He had the mind to drag the girl out of the room and have her flogged until she disclosed the whereabouts of the real Lyanna. But perhaps it was the desperation in her face or the simple fact that that face belonged to his sister and he had never been one to stomach her in any kind of pain that he hesitated. “I can prove it,” she said. “I have items in my purse that can prove I am who I said I am. If you would just give me a chance to show you, to explain… Please. If you still don’t believe me then you can call whomever you like, but please allow me the chance.” 

Brandon squeezed his eyes shut feeling a migraine coming on.  _ I’m too soft _ , he thought. He gripped her wrist firmly in hand and pulled her away from the door. “Fine,” he said,” I’m giving thee a chance. But thee are going to sit there on the bed and thee art not going to move. I don’t want thee running for the door the second my back is turned, understood? If thee run, I shall catch thee and if I catch thee a flogging will be the least of thy worries.”

The stranger nodded once in agreement then pointed to the black leather satchel hung on the wall next to the grey surcoat. “My purse is over there,” she told him and sat down on the bed tucking her legs underneath her. Brandon nodded and turned to retrieve it not once taking his eye off the imposter with his sister’s face. He unhooked the bag and handed it back to the girl. He took his seat back in the chair he had pulled up to the bed and watched as she stuck her hand into the confines of the bag.

He was ill-prepared for what she pulled out next.


End file.
